Leaving
by kalliopeia
Summary: Emily thought she'd been keeping her secrets so well. When she announced her intention to quit the BAU at JJ's wedding, her team proved to her that they'd known the whole time. Not all of it- they didn't understand exactly where the breaking point was- but they knew that JJ was in the middle of it all and Emily just couldn't stay any longer. One-sided femslash. Oneshot.


It was funny, Emily thought, that she'd always thought the team was oblivious.

Funny because they were profilers (except Garcia, who was omniscient) and she should have figured that they would see it a mile away. Everyone knew that the 'no-profiling-profilers' rule really meant that they didn't intentionally profile one another, and when it happened accidentally, they played dumb. Nonetheless, Emily had thought that the secret was under wraps.

When Derek Morgan confronted her about wanting to leave, she expected him to try to talk her out of it. She expected him to freak out and list all the reasons she should stay and the lie she told him- that she no longer felt she belonged- would be temporary. His suspicion of her excuse was all over his face, but he didn't call her on it. When he was just quiet, she prodded him- "You think I should stay," and just received a sympathetic look and his profession that he'd miss her, she knew. Because the Derek Morgan she knew would never have reacted that way unless he understood.

Moments later, when Aaron Hotchner approached her and immediately profiled her terrible mood, despite how well she had learned to fake it, she suspected he had an inkling too. When he asked her if she wanted to talk about it, she knew he deserved to know. She would admit to him the lies she'd told over so many years, every broken rule, every emotion she just couldn't compartmentalize anymore, every dashed hope, and every reason she just couldn't stay. But not there. Not in Rossi's foyer, not while they were supposed to be happy.

When Spencer Reid offered her his hand and pulled her onto the dance floor, she read it in his body language. Of all the things he knew, she never expected him to figure this out. He could probably tell her the GDP of Uganda, but she expected him to be oblivious to the turmoil under her skin. She should have known better. Reid didn't say a word until the dance ended, when he quietly told her that he wished her luck. "Good luck, and I hope someday you'll be able to forget." She was startled by the wisdom from her youngest friend, but he'd been through as much any of them. They would write, she knew. She wouldn't just leave his life. Enough people had done that already.

David Rossi had been next, taking one look at her and telling her sagely, "It won't help. Running won't make it hurt less." And he probably knew what he was talking about, but she couldn't stay, and he understood that. It was all over his face as they danced. If she'd had to guess who would have figured it out, it would have been him. When she asked quietly how long he'd suspected, he just laughed. "Day I was hired." He tightened his grip around her and kissed the top of her head gently before reluctantly letting her go.

By that point, she wasn't exactly surprised when Penelope Garcia took one look at her and desperately yanked her toward JJ, pulling the three of them in an awkward dance, as if this was another one of their girls' nights, as if everything was okay, as if everything wasn't falling apart at the seams. When she didn't make eye contact with either of them, Penelope sighed and pulled her away after the song ended, giving her an enormous hug, interrogating her about her plans and making her promise to write every day. But even she understood why Emily had to flee.

Yes, the team understood. Despite all of her lies, despite all of her compartmentalization, they knew people and they knew her, and they forgave her for not being able to stay anymore.

Although her eyes met with JJ's repeatedly as she danced with her new husband, the bride never said a word to her, even when Penelope's embrace awkwardly bound them together. No, that conversation would never happen. Because if the others knew, she had to. After all, she had much more information.

Because JJ was her partner in crime for every broken rule. JJ was who she'd lied about but never to. JJ had seen every emotion she compartmentalized away written clearly on her face because it's not easy to fake a smile in the throes of passion. JJ had to remember every sweaty touch, every stifled moan. JJ was the one she'd shared ironic glances with any time someone mentioned the fraternization rules. JJ was the one she'd gone to after the worst cases and JJ was the one who'd come to her.

Emily had fallen in love with JJ. JJ had fallen in love with Will.

For a long time, too long, JJ had tried to balance them both. After all, the fact that she loved Will had never meant that she had no feelings for Emily. The attraction so intense that it became dangerous thundered through both of their veins. But dangerous lust wasn't enough. JJ had tried to make it enough- coming to Emily on weeknights and flying to New Orleans on weekends and assuming Emily didn't know exactly what was going on.

When JJ became pregnant, when Will moved in with her and took the job at DCPD, Emily expected everything to change. It didn't. She played the perfect girlfriend and mother by day and the beautiful seductress by night. Emily knew it was wrong, knew she was going home to a husband who trusted her, but couldn't bring herself to stop. Couldn't bring herself to admit that all she and JJ ever had was sex and friendship, that the two parts of their relationship would never be tied by mutual love.

It was only on the plane to London, with everything she owned checked into luggage, waiting to start her new life, that she realized that although her coworkers had known all along, they had likely been wrong. The way they glanced at her sympathetically during the wedding, the way Rossi patted her shoulder during the vows and Reid did a distracting magic trick only she could see- they assumed, incorrectly, that she could not stay now that JJ was married.

Honestly, Emily wished it was true. She wished that the marriage had been why she left. She wished that she had fled to keep JJ's vow to forsake all others pure and unsullied by what she knew would happen between them if she stayed. She wished that she was that good of a person, but she wasn't. If a white dress and two rings were the only changes, she wouldn't have left. Because after all the years JJ had knocked on her door after Will was asleep in their bed, dresses and rings and vows didn't mean a damn. They wouldn't change anything. JJ might have showed up on their wedding night. Emily would never know- she purposefully never went home.

No, Emily left because her denial had been taken from her. As long as JJ continued to come back- and she always would, because when it came down to it, JJ lacked any form of self-control- Emily could pretend that she wanted her and stayed with Will out of expectation, or duty, or something. But when the bank exploded with Emily inside it, and JJ charged in, screaming Will's name, it all came to a sudden halt.

Because in that moment, in JJ's panic, there was honesty. Brutal honesty that JJ had kept hidden from her for all of these years. In that moment, there was no denying who JJ really wanted, really loved, really couldn't live without. And it wasn't her.

Sex wasn't enough anymore. Lust wasn't enough anymore. Emily needed JJ to be in love with her, but she couldn't have that. Emily couldn't let JJ pin her against a wall and kiss the daylights out of her if JJ was in love with someone else. She didn't want to leave her job, her team, her friends, her country, but she knew that her willpower was no better than JJ's- if Emily was going to change their relationship, she was going to have to put enough distance between them, distance that would force the fire in their bones to die away, distance that would allow JJ to finally be the woman she'd been imitating for years. And if it pulled Emily apart at the seams, well, JJ had done that a long time ago, and maybe this time she'd be able to stitch herself back up.


End file.
